


starting line

by Adrain



Series: librarian andrew [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Eating Disorders, Foster Parents, Recovery, Self-Harm, evelyn!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 20:00:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrain/pseuds/Adrain
Summary: Evelyn isn't perfect and doesn't have the best habits, but dear Lord is she trying.





	starting line

Evelyn had been living with Andrew and Neil for five months, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to have bad days. She was a gay, mentally ill teenager living in a small, southern town. Of course, she had bad days, but Andrew and Neil were working on finding her a permanent therapist and getting help for it all.

It was one of those bad days where Evelyn would lock herself in her bathroom, choking back sobs, hands over her mouth, tugging at her hair. It was one of those days where Andrew and Neil reminding her that they were there to talk to didn’t help. None of it helped, and she just wanted out. Life was too hard for her, and she didn’t want to exist. This made her feel overdramatic, though. She knew what the two Exy players had been through and had done and thinking about it made everything worse. She’d seen Andrew’s scars, the ones that matched the ones on her thighs. She knew not eating when at some points in their lives, Andrew and Neil couldn’t was selfish.

She felt selfish as she indulged in her self-destructive behaviors. She didn’t eat the whole day and had dropped by the department store on her way home to buy supplies. She’d been fine—a damned word –for about a month, but there was now a big lapse in her recovery.

Neil was knocking on the door, reminding her that he was there to talk, that he was worried. Locking herself in there wasn’t going to help anything. It took her half an hour to finish the work on her thigh, doing a shitty job of patching herself up before unlocking the door. She didn’t leave the room for another fifteen minutes, almost running into Andrew as she made her way into the hallway.

Her mind went to the little stash of (unopened) laxatives and little blades in the tampon box under the sink, and she flushed. He gave her a pointed look and sighed. “Don’t even try to lie, Evelyn,” he said flatly, moving down the stairs with an unspoken command for her to follow. She followed, wincing as her pajama pants brushed against the slipping bandages plastered on her thighs.

“I’m not lying. I just didn’t say anything,” she finally spoke once she sat herself down in the recliner, feet pulled up against herself.

Andrew grunted and made his way into the kitchen. He knew she hadn’t eaten, and so did Neil, who was busying himself with dinner. He glanced at Andrew worriedly as the shorter man started making a protein shake.

“I don’t want to put her in an institution,” Andrew said, pouring protein powder into the blender, swearing as some of it spilled onto the counter. Neil sighed from his spot on the other side of the kitchen as he made zucchini lasagna. They were all vegetarian now, or at least mostly, in the case of the adults.

“I know.”

Andrew finished up the shake and poured half into a glass and grabbed a spoon, a straw, and a bottle of water. “Your organs are going to start to fail if you keep going like this,” Andrew announced, setting the items down in front of Evelyn, who was picking at her nails.

Evelyn said nothing and stared blankly at the shake. She sighed and rubbed at her face. “I know. I know. Okay? I know,” she whispered, tangling her bony fingershands in thick curls.

“Hurting yourself leaves you with ugly scars and stories. It doesn’t help, Evel-“

“I know!” she cut him off, opening the bottle of water. “I am trying. I am having a bad day. We’ve had this same talk every time I have a bad day? Can we not do that? Can we watch a game show? Or Exy? Or do something other than talk about how I’m ruining my life, Andrew?” she begged, tears forming in her oak brown eyes.

Andrew said nothing and clicked on the television before glancing at the drink again.

“I’m not adverse to getting help, okay? And I’m sorry for raising my voice. I just… I..” she groaned and shook her head, picking up the shake.

“I’m looking at them before you go to sleep,” he said pointing at her leg. “And you’re eating some dinner. Not all. But some,” he said, flipping through the channels. “We are going to find you help, Evelyn. Don’t turn it away.”

“I won’t,” she whispered as he settled on Jeopardy. She was still sitting at the starting line in the big race of recovery. “The blades are in the box of tampons under the sink.” And she was off.


End file.
